


Father of Two, Husband to Bridget, 54-years-old, and the Happiest He'd Ever Been

by reindeerjumper



Series: Daddy Darcy [14]
Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types, Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
Genre: Daddy Darcy, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Mark Darcy as a dad is hot, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:40:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: Mark wakes up on New Year's Day to a tangle of limbs and love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year's! Just a little domestic, family fluff to get 2017 started off with the warm fuzzies. I also needed a reason to explain Mabel's name because **I. Hate. It.**. Upon further investigation, it isn't as bad as I thought. Also a bit of a canon divergence with the two children's personalities--I like the idea of Will being more of a Bridget and Mabel being more of a Mark.

Mark awoke with a bleary start. He was lying in bed with a warm body tucked under his arm, and he could feel the prodding of toes in his hip bone. Gently, Mark peeked down at the mess of chestnut curls under his chin, and couldn't suppress the smile on his face as he looked down at his slumbering daughter. She had her mother’s profile--the full cheeks, the button nose, the slight pout--but with his coloring. When awake, their daughter’s amber eyes sparkled to the point of making him melt, which Bridget teased him relentlessly about ( _ “Now you know how it feels!” _ ).  He couldn't believe she was already two. How time was flying. 

Next to him was Will, already four-years-old and a literal ball of energy. It seemed that he had crashed into bed with Mark and Bridget and had proceeded to create a tornado of bed linens throughout the night. He now lay between them both almost completely sideways, his toes digging into Mark’s hip bone while his head nestled up near Bridget’s face. Bridget had an arm draped across her son’s torso, and her face was gently pressed into the tousle of blonde duck down they called hair. 

The four of them had stayed up far later than any of them were used to in recent years, and he was hesitant to check the time. It had been New Year’s Eve, and the only one who hadn't been able to stay away until midnight was Mabel. She had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up in Mark’s lap as they watched the countdown on television. Will, on the other hand, had stayed awake out of sheer determination. Ironically, the second they quietly celebrated the New Year to avoid waking Mabel, Will had climbed into Bridget's lap and promptly snuggled into her neck before completely passing out. 

How all four of them had ended up in Mark and Bridget's bed was beyond him. He had a hazy recollection of Bridget’s pout and a silent, “Pleeeeeease?” being mouthed to him over the head of their son. Truly, he couldn't deny her anything, so he had begrudgingly agreed to let the kids spend the night in their bed. What had started out as the two children tucked securely in the middle of the bed somehow ended up where they were now--a tangle of limbs and morning breath and messy hair. Mabel's warm weight against Mark’s chest was enough to make him stay in bed all day, and despite the discomfort of Will’s feet digging into him, he couldn't bring himself to wake his family just yet. 

He smiled. 

Amazing what could change in four years. In those 1,460 days, Mark had regained the love of his life, helped bring an amazing baby boy into the world, married the aforementioned love of his life, became a father to a beautiful little girl, and put all of these amazing additions into the forefront of his priorities.

Five years ago, he had spent the last New Year’s of his forties with Camilla. They had attended a rather stuffy get together, the two of them rather distant emotionally and physically. He knew it was the beginning of the end--he had experienced the feeling enough to know when it was coming--but he had put on a brave face and escorted his wife to the party. Mark had spent most of the night lingering near the wall of the restaurant they were in, a glass of red wine never leaving his hand and Camilla sporadically entering and exiting his line of vision. On more than one occasion, he had caught himself wondering what Bridget might be up to. 

Now, he needn't wonder. She was right here next to him, warm and soft and snoring. The smile that kept recurring crept back onto his face as he gazed over at her. As always, her hair was an absolute mess, and her cheeks were flushed with sleep. Self consciously, Mark took his free hand and ran it through his own hair, sheepishly realizing that it probably wasn't much better than his wife’s. He didn't care, though--he could wake up a mess every day of his life if it meant waking up like this.

As he looked at his wife and son cuddled together, he thought back on their first New Year’s Eve as parents. Will was almost a year old, and they had fallen asleep at 9:00 from exhaustion. It was also the first night Will had slept through the entire night without interruption. They had woken up the next morning feeling like they had a new lease on life. 

The next year was far less innocent. With a rambunctious toddler, Mark and Bridget found very little time to be intimate with each other. When Pam Jones had offered to take Will for the New Year to give them some time to themselves, the newlyweds had jumped on it with eager acceptance. After a posh dinner in the city, Mark had brought Bridget back to their house to properly ring in the New Year. They had left a trail of clothes from the front door to their bedroom, and 9 months later Mabel was making her way into the world.

He looked down at the small form of their daughter on his chest and smiled. She had come into the world with far less screaming than Will had, thanks to the proper drugs and a much calmer situation. It wasn't lost on Mark how his children's entrances into the world reflected on their personalities. Where Will was excited chatter and boundless energy, Mabel was much more reservation and introspection. Even though Will was his blonde doppelgänger, Mark knew just from looking into his daughter’s eyes that he and Mabel were two of a kind. Will was his mother through and through, whereas Mabel was Mark’s mini.

Mark thought back on Mabel’s birth and when Bridget had laid her in his arms for the first time. He was shattered the minute he looked down at her--they had opted to be surprised the second time around, and Mark had never imagined they'd be blessed with a daughter. Looking down at her crown of curls and the bow of her lips, Mark had vowed to himself that he would never let something happen to her. He had almost missed Bridget saying she wanted to name her Mabel, which had surprised him. 

“Mabel? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure. It's after Mabel Chiltern, from the Oscar Wilde novel.”

“I mean, it's no River...actually quite the opposite. I think my grandmother had a friend named Mabel.”

“What if I also said it means ‘lovable’?”

That was all Mark needed to hear to finally agree. Mabel lived up to her namesake, entering their lives and filling the missing piece that they didn't know they needed. Will was fiercely protective of his sister, and Mark and Bridget secretly loved to watch him try to teach her new things or help her with a task she was having difficulty with. His bigger than life personality became a little more subdued around his sister, and they had caught him on more than one occasion pressing a sloppy kiss to her hair. 

_ Who would have thought that at 54 I'd have a toddler and a 4-year-old,  _ Mark thought smugly to himself. He allowed himself to place a warm, protective hand on Mabel's back, which caused her to squirm a bit and then resettle herself with a sigh. Mark placed a soft kiss against her head, and then reached across the mattress to run his thumb gently across Will’s cheek. Will’s eyes fluttered underneath the lids at Mark's touch, then sleepily opened. Mark watched the quick panic cross his son's features as he tried to figure out where he was, until it finally registered that he was in his parents’ bed. 

“Da?” he said sleepily as he sat up. His soft blonde hair was sticking up in all different angles and he had a sheet mark on his cheek. Mark felt his heart swell with emotion as he looked at his firstborn, and he couldn't keep himself from holding his arm out to welcome Will into the crook of his arm. With some effort, Will crawled towards Mark and nestled into the proffered space that Mark provided. Mark placed several kisses against Will’s crazy hair as he relished the feeling of his son nestling in closer to him. 

“Good morning, love,” he whispered into Will’s hair. Will pulled back to place a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek and returned the sentiment. 

“Why isn't Mummy awake?” he asked.

“She's probably still tired. Being a Mummy is hard work.”

“What about Mabel? She isn't a mummy.”

Mark laughed and said, “Very true. We're going to have to get up soon anyway. Today is Grandma Pam’s Turkey Curry Buffet and we most certainly can't be late for it.”

The conversation between Will and Mark had roused Mabel from her slumber, and she now picked her head up from Mark’s shoulder to sleepily inspect his face. Mark pulled his face back to get a better look at her, which made her giggle softly as she grabbed at the double chin his gesture had made. This made Mark laugh louder than before, which of course set off Will. The three of them now sat in bed, giggling like loons and pulling faces at each other to see who could make the other laugh harder. 

Of course, this had been the final moment that pushed Bridget out of her sleep state. She pushed herself up onto an elbow to look at the three of them through one eye and murmur, “What in bloody hell is going on?” 

“Bridget,” Mark said in a warning tone. “We're not alone.”

At this, Bridget fully opened her eyes to look at her family next to her, and a blush crept onto her cheeks. “Whoops,” she said, turning onto her back and leaning against the headboard. “Not the best way to start the new year, is it?” 

“This should help,” Mark replied. He leaned over top of Will and placed a kiss on her lips. 

“Mm, much better,” she replied. 

“My turn!” Will exclaimed, launching himself toward Bridget and grabbing both sides of her face. He placed an even sloppier kiss onto her lips, and Mark couldn't help laughing at her surprised expression. 

“Thank you, darling,” she said, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. Mabel now sleepily crawled over Mark’s torso to plant her own kiss on Bridget, and luckily for his wife this one was far less sloppy than Will’s. 

“How about we go get some breakfast rustled up?” Mark said, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. 

“Pancakes! Green ones!” Will shouted, jumping out after him.

“Green pancakes!” Mabel echoed, hanging her little body off the side of the bed to follow Mark and Will. 

“Green pancakes it is,” Mark said as he donned his dressing gown. “Meet us downstairs?” he said to Bridget, eyeing his wife from across the room. 

“I can come down,” she replied, making her way to get out of bed. 

“Even if we have to go to your mum’s today?”

“Oh, bugger. I forgot. In that case, call me when it's ready. I'll need all the energy I have to make it through today,” Bridget replied, squirming her way back under the duvet. 

Mark padded around the bed to place a kiss on her forehead before saying, “That's what I thought. Call you in 20.”

With that, Mark scooped Mabel up to place her on his shoulders as Will danced excitedly around him, chanting, “Pan-cakes! Pan-cakes! Pan-cakes!”

As Mark made his way downstairs to the kitchen, he couldn't help the grin on his face. Father of two, husband to Bridget, 54-years-old, and the happiest he'd ever been.  _ Happy New Year, indeed.  _

  
  



End file.
